Oh, by the way...

This really has nothing to do with my paper, cave painting, or my goofball cat. And I feel like blogging, so I'm going to make a new entry, even though it is so soon after my last one. So nyeah! :P

Random story. I was at work last week, and on Friday this guy came in to pick up his order. He had some trousers that he'd ordered and needed THAT DAY because he was going of to do some National Guard duties. As he was leaving, my boss told him "Have fun! ...or, you know, whatever it is out there." And the guy started talking about how it actually was fun, because he had some fun soldier-like exercises to do. Like, he had to hit a dime at some-large-number meters. Shiny. He gets a sniper rifle to do it, though, so it's not like hitting it with a pistol, but it's still shiny :)

Then he was talking about how he was going to be doing some stuff with the drill team, as well. And there was one move where he's standing in the back, and he tosses his rifle to someone, and the guy in the front tosses his rifle to him... and he's supposed to catch it. Now, apparently there's something sharp on the rifle. I forget what he called it, but let's call it a bayonet for my sake. He says he always manages to catch it on the bayonet. So, underneath his white gloves, he's got some chain maille gloves :)

Rock! I mean, all these years, and chain maille is still useful! That's why I love the stuff :) Protects you from bayonets, shark bites, and kitten claws. It looks freaking sweet, too.

Heh...

I don't know whether to laugh or to scream in pain. A little of both, I imagine.

Once again, trying to write my paper. It's not working out so well, as expected (cave paintings!). But my little study buddy, a.k.a. Schrodinger, has come to help me out.

Let me set the scene for you. I'm sitting on my bed (which is queen sized), and I'm on the... uh... starboard... which way is starboard... RIGHT. I'm on the right side. Next to me is my nightstand with all sorts of junk on it... books, nail polish, gum, calculator, comics, pens... that sort of stuff. Well, Schrodinger comes to sit next to me (because I'm paying attention to the computer and not to him), and he walks across my stomach and sits on my right side (which of course is the narrower side). So, he's leaning on my leg, and his feet are hanging off the edge of the bed. My genius cat then decides that this is not comfortable, and he rolls over. He falls off the side of the bed, knocking everything off my nightstand (good thing those nail polish bottles were closed). But of course, with his catlike reflexes, he digs his claws into the nearest anchor and hauls himself back up. Unfortunately, the nearest anchor was my leg.

So, here's me, trying to write a paper about housewives, but I'm laughing at my cat and screaming in pain at the same time, plus I'm trying to read the comics and blog at the same time.

I'm starting to see why I never get anything done...

Who's that?

"One Follower"? I have followers (well, follower...)? I can has loyal subjects, please? *puts on purple robe and a big frenning crown* Bow to me, loyal subjects! I demand horses and fine linens and perfumes and cookies.

Wait... I said frenning again. OH! My loyal subject is Bethy? Bethy? Who is Bethy? .... Ooh, that's probably Bes'la.... My loyal subject is Bes'la? *sigh* Bes'la isn't going to bring me horses and fine linens and perfumes... she might bring me cookies, though.

Hey! That's twice in a row I spelled "cookies" right!

Now, wait... I know there was a reason I started blogging, and loyal subjects wasn't one of them...

OH! English essay. Because blogging helps me write my English papers.

So apparently I have to write a summary of this one essay. Okay, sure, why not.

Dude, I hate English. I totally do. Essays are the work of the devil. Cave paintings, I'm telling you, dude... we need to go back to cave paintings! I would draw a stick figure housewife cleaning up, and I'd be done.

Well. I tell you what, I started this blog at 2:00. It is now 4:45, and I have written two and a half sentences. I'm so gonna flunk...

Blah, episode two.

Okay, so here's me fighting with my English paper again. I have to write something about Simone de Beauvoir's book, The Second Sex. *shrug* I'm supposed to have an opinion on it, I guess. My opinion is that the small bit I read was funny. I liked the story examples. *shrug* Just... funny.

But anyway. I'm supposed to say whether I agree or disagree, then back up my agreement or disagreement with some examples or something. So, anyway. First thing I'm doing is finding out when she wrote it. 1949. Okay. Now I need to know where she's from. France. Okay, so we're working with a feminist from 1949 France. That's different than if she were in 1999 America. Next step... let's find out what life was like for women in 1949 France.

Hm. There doesn't seem to be one page about women in 1949 France. Okay, well, I can figure out what was going on in France in 1949, at least.

Well. Apparently nothing happened. Okay. We'll back it up a bit and say the general 1940s, then. Uh... World War 2.

Nothing. Well. Okay. I guess France didn't exist in the 1940s. Fine then! I'll just write my paper uninformed.

Of course... there is the college resource thing. It lists tons of articles and stuff. Maybe I can find some different stuff in there...

Hey! An article! That sounds promising. "I'm not just a housewife". Interesting. Let's read that.

.... Hey.... let me read it! *hits computer* I AM a student, you moron! I am logged in! HEY! *shouts* HEY!!

Runaway Train!

Here's a question. Why is it that when you're near someone you really like (I mean like like), your brain shuts down and your mouth takes over? Why? Every single time! It's ridiculous.

See, I don't flirt. I just don't. I play video games with guys. That's my flirting. For some reason or another, though, someone took over my brain today and decided to make me flirt. It's the drasted gremlins, I tell you! I know it was them! They laid their eggs in my ears, and now they're in my head!

'cause see, there's this guy I like. I mean lots. (I was informed by my friend that I've "got it bad".) And he showed up today after church for the dinner thing we were having, and BLIMEY did he ever look cute in his tie. I mean, normally he's a shorts-and-flip-flops guy, which is hot in itself, but this was a different sort of tidy hot. And the gremlins decided that I wouldn't remain invisible, and that he would totally notice me before I'd leave. Some time after dinner, my friend was bugging me that she was bored and wanted to go, but the gremlins wouldn't let me leave. So I marched over to his table and sat down across from him (so I wasn't being so obvious as sitting next to him, but he could still see me), and I just started cracking jokes. I don't remember specifically what I said, but I mean I sounded.... confident? Don't know where that came from. At one point I had him laughing over something stupid.

The weirdest thing was I said something to someone else that was slightly funny, and he looked over at me and smiled, so I returned the smile in a kind of "Thank you, I'll be here all week" kind of smile, then went back to my business. But he didn't stop looking and smiling! I mean, it wasn't like a stare, but he was totally looking longer than a normal look. I mean, I thought he was looking, but I might be reading too much into it... *shrug*

He was being all goofy playing on the Wii, and I got out my camera and filmed him jumping around trying to figure out how to do a right hook. It was quite entertaining. So when he finally sat down, tired from playing, I got up, leaned over his shoulder, and showed him the video. He thought it was funny. So I kinda walked off, said "This is going on Facebook!" and nudged him on the shoulder. Yeah. I mean, not like a creepy sensual *shoulder touch*, but I definitely touched him. Which is freaky for me, 'cause normally when I like a guy, I can't even look straight at him.

It's the drasted gremlins, they hijacked my brain, I tell you!

(Don't tell him, but I hope the gremlins don't leave...)

Drast Microsoft Word...

I'm having an argument with Microsoft, and I'm losing. It's correcting my grammar! MINE! Why is it doing that? I mean, there I am, happily hitting my stride in this frenning English paper I have to write, and then this wobbly green line pops up under my sentence and says "This sentence is a fragment. Please consider rewriting it." I'm looking at this sentence upways and downways (and inventing new words while I'm at it), and I don't see how it's a fragment.

Don't tell anyone, but I'm trying to diagram the sentence (aw crap, it DID come in handy...). It's fine! *sigh* Don't get smart with me, Word! I am human, you are machine! Bow to me!

Well, I added a comma to the first part of the sentence, and it seems to have fixed the problem. That was just weird. But... but... but there's too many commas, man! It didn't NEED one!

Aw, crap, that does look better.

Now, come on. Since when did my word programs suddenly get smarter than me? This is stupid. I mean, how does it know the difference between subject and verb, anyway? Seriously, is it diagramming this as I'm typing?

Oh, and just now, I had to use spell check on "diagramming". Who knew there were two M's? Why is it the machines know more about grammar and spelling than humans? It didn't used to be this way. Heck, in the past, you'd take a piece of chalk, draw a buffalo being hunted, and that meant... well... that a buffalo was hunted. Nothing complicated about that. No rules, no spelling... just a picture of a buffalo. Can we go back to those days?

Pardon me. I need to go fix my document. Word is telling me I'm using too many comma splices, stop using so much slang, stand up straight, don't slouch in your seat, don't slurp your soup, and give all your money to Bill Gates. Yessir, Mr Word, sir.

Care packages?

You know, now that I've got a job, I realise I've got extra cash sitting around, and I was thinking that I'd like to put some care packages together for the troops. *shrug* Why not, eh?

What do soldiers want in their care packages?

Snacks, for one thing. You can never have too many snacks. Air freshener like whoa. Batteries. Lots and lots of batteries. Soap, toothpaste, shampoo, hand sanitizer... stuff like that. Entertainment? Karen Traviss books would be an awesome idea. Can't go wrong with Republic Commando. There's gotta be Star Wars fans out there. More air freshener. More snacks. More batteries.

Return address? That might be smart. I've never been in the military, but just from hearing soldier stories, the one thing they want the most is a connection to home. So, a little letter, maybe some stamps and envelopes and such. Do they get provided with envelopes and paper and such? Might be worth checking into.

I think I'm gonna need a bigger box.